“Hurry. They’re going around the barrier. We don’t have much longer.”
Wordlessly, she followed him down the stairs.
John opened the closet in the foyer, removed both their coats and passed them to Caitlin as she went around him into the hall.
“They’re wearing flak vests; you’ll have to aim for their legs or head, preferably their legs.”
“Why? I don’t mind killing a couple of them. They didn’t mind killing Scott or the cabby.”
“That’s not the point. Wounded men scream, usually a lot, it’ll add to the general confusion and make the others warier. It’s demoralizing to listen to the screams of wounded comrades. They’ll start to wonder if they’ll be next. They’ll hesitate, fear will make them cautious, and they won’t be in such a hurry to rush after us.”
Outside there was the sound of an engine. It died as soon as they heard it.
John took the Remington autoloading shotgun and shell bag from the closet. “They’ll flank the house, wanting to cover all the exits, and then they’ll hit the doors simultaneously. They’ll probably lead off with stun grenades. Get your sunglasses and ear protectors on.”
He entered the hall and could just make out Caitlin’s form as she set the Mossberg down and tipped the mattress over the lower half of the kitchen doorway. John pulled his sunglasses back on, then removed the ear protectors from the ammo bag, and adjusted them over his ears. He crouched next to her, his hand moved to touch her, joining their emotions. She was nervous, scared, but almost eager for the confrontation. He tried to relax her, to take away some of the nervousness that could make her hesitate, make mistakes, and spoil her aim.
“You really do get a thrill from this,” she transmitted.
“No, I ... Well, all right, I guess I do.”
She gathered his emotions and reflected them. He was surprised at the intensity of his own feelings. He’d enjoyed adrenaline rushes ever since the Canyon. It was an addiction, but he’d never realized how strong its hold on him was. His anticipation of the coming fight was frightening for he held no fear of death or maiming in his emotions. Rather there was an unhealthy pleasure filling him. For once, he could see his addiction for what it was. He’d heard drug addictions referred to as a monkey on your back, if that was so, there was a five-hundred-pound gorilla riding him.
“Scary isn’t it? How do you live like this?”
“I didn’t realize.”
“You need counseling. It’s not healthy to need this sensation, this danger.”
“Yeah? Well, talk to me later about it, right now we’ve got things to do.”
She didn’t reply, and he let his hand drop from her shoulder. The connection broke. He’d accomplished what he’d intended, she was no longer nervous about the fight, but he was afraid that if they’d stayed connected much longer, he wouldn’t have been prepared. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of counseling, of career changes, of addictions.
He shook himself and felt the gorilla reach down and take a firm grip on his gut. Adrenaline coursed through him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reveling in the rush. That was more like it. Let them come; it’d been too long since he’d been in a firefight.
Glass shattered throughout the house.
It rained onto hardwood floors and ceramic tile with a musical chime. The heavy thud of metal accompanied it.
“Party time,” he transmitted.
The house rocked with the nearly simultaneous detonation of a half dozen stun grenades. Even crouched behind the mattress with his eyes firmly closed he could see the bright flash against his retinas. The booming was nearly deafening, like a volley of Smerch rockets going off. Then there was more glass shattering against the floor as the rubber pellets peppered everything in the house.
John raised the shotgun and flipped off the safety. With his left hand, he pulled both the shades and ear protectors from his head and dropped them into the ammo bag.
Dual shotgun blasts came from both the front and back doors as the intruders blew away the hinges.
“The Feds are so predictable,” he transmitted.
Caitlin had pushed the mattress to one side and was aiming at the rear door. John faced the front door just as the first man kicked it off its shattered hinges and stood silhouetted against the swirling snow.
As he stepped to one side of the door, the second agent appeared. The shotgun bucked in his hands as John shot the second man in the knees. The Remington smoothly chambered another round, and John popped the first man the same way even as he turned toward his position.
Both men collapsed. The second man fell outside the house while the first fell face down in the foyer.
The night was suddenly filled with screaming, bleeding bodies, the deep-throated boom of another shotgun, and automatic fire from a dozen weapons.
“Got one of mine,” Caitlin transmitted. “The other ducked back outside as soon as he heard your shots.”
“All right, give them a second to empty their magazines into the house. Ha, damn nice to have these thick logs. When there’s a pause, they’ll probably try to get us to surrender, that’s when we’ll pop the charges and hit the back door.”
“Ready when you are.”
He backed down the hall, keeping his gun sighted on the front door until he bumped into her. A few seconds later, the gunfire suddenly ceased.
The tinny shout of a bullhorn broke the silence. “You in the house. John Blalock. We are Federal Agents. You are surrounded. Surrender now. You won’t be offered another chance.”
“That’s our cue,” John transmitted.
He picked up the end of the orange power cord and plugged it into the wall outlet.
Shattering explosions filled the night with one thousand, one-inch long, steel brads. Suddenly there was confusion, screaming, and more gunfire.
“That’s our cue to skidoo,” John transmitted.
He ran through the kitchen and onto the back porch. The man Caitlin had shot was still sprawled on the porch, clutching at the mangled mess of his legs, and screaming. Another man slumped beside the steps. He had the misfortune to hide not five feet from the Pyrodex powder charge. His flak vest bristled with scores of the small nails, but the ones that reached his head and limbs had sunk in.
John had an unexpected memory flash of the Nails character in Wes Craven’s Hellbound.
He scanned both sides of the house, but he could not see any movement through the thick snow.
“Come on,” he transmitted. “Allie allie all in free.”
Caitlin came through the door and ran past him without giving either of the fallen men more than a moment’s inspection.
He gave her a three-second head start, and when there was no sign of pursuit, ran after her.
The wind against his face was cold. He could feel his nose starting to run, and his eyes watered. It reminded him of learning to ski at Copper Mountain, nearly twenty years before.
It amazed him what the memory dragged up at the oddest times.
Ahead of him, Caitlin was climbing into the Jeep. He yanked opened the driver’s door as Caitlin closed her door. Taking the key from beneath the floor mat, John inserted it in the ignition.
Caitlin was staring back toward the house.
John turned the key, and the engine fired to life.
Automatic fire pinged through the Jeep’s sheet metal.
Caitlin ducked beneath the windows.
“Damn, I didn’t think anyone saw us leave. Get on the floor,” John said, slamming the transmission into gear, and goosing the accelerator.
The Jeep shot forward as a second automatic opened up from the opposite side of the house.
“Son of a bitch!”
The Jeep was already aimed at the narrow path he’d picked through the woods. He left the lights off as they rushed toward the trees.
Glass shattered as bullets whined through the interior.
He crouched low in the seat and tried to estimate how long he had befo
re they reached the tree line.
John leaned over Caitlin’s head and flipped open the glove box. He fumbled his night goggles out of their case and slipped them over his eyes just in time to avoid the thick pine they’d been about to skewer. The goggles didn’t function as well in the snowy landscape as on a clear night, but there was enough light to make out the darker shadows of the trees.
The window next to John’s head shattered in a burst of flying glass. Shards of the safety glass peppered the side of his face like the spray from a shotgun.
Then they were into the trees and swerving to avoid the nearer pines. Out of sight of the house, the gunfire died.
“You can get up now. You should get your safety harness on,” John said aloud as he pulled his own harness across his body and clicked it into the buckle.
Caitlin climbed onto the seat and struggled to pull out the belt.
They reached the down slope, tipped over the edge, and picked up speed. The lumps of rock he’d spotted during the daylight were invisible in his goggles. He flicked on the parking lights. The added light provided more contrast, but he still couldn’t overdrive the lights. He was forced to stay below thirty.
The tires struck something beneath the snow, and the Jeep bounced roughly to the side. Caitlin grunted. John turned his head far enough to see that she had bounced off the ceiling and into the side door.
“Damn,” she said and tugged on the harness again. For a moment, it wouldn’t release as the rough surface kept the belt’s locking system frozen. Then it was free, and she stretched it across and fastened it.
Lights appeared behind them as the second of the Suburbans reached the top of the slope.
“They made a quick recovery. Let’s hope they don’t realize what the snow is hiding,” John said.
“Or the back seat.”
John jumped at the voice behind his head. It sounded familiar.
The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his neck.
Caitlin whirled toward the sound and tried to bring her shotgun around.
“No,” John transmitted. “Don’t do anything yet.”
John dogged another hidden rock and then plowed through the barbed wire fence.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“The same thing we all want. A long and peaceful life, but alas, we can’t always get what we want.”
“But we get what we need. Yeah, I know that song,” John said.
“Song?” Dewatre asked.
“Never mind.”
“Who are you? Which group do you work for?” Caitlin asked.
“My name is Alain Dewatre. As for who I work for, does it really matter?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Good, careful here, Mr. Blalock. I want you to slow down as you enter the trees.”
They reached the far side of the clearing and John slowed as he turned onto the drive that led toward the neighbor’s house.
“Why? If we slow down, the Feds will catch up.”
“I just want to be able to watch the fireworks,” Dewatre responded.
“What fireworks?” Caitlin asked.
“I thought you might need a little assistance with your getaway. Ah, there. They’re entering the woods.”
In the rearview mirror, John could see the Suburban pulling onto the drive. Dewatre raised a small transmitter, and John’s goggles automatically dimmed as the night erupted with thunder and lightning.
John swore under his breath and flicked on the headlights. Behind them, the Suburban swerved off the drive and crashed through the trees until it reached one that was too large to knock over.
“What was that?” Caitlin asked.
“Something like the stun grenades they used on you. I thought they would appreciate the irony.”
“Now what?” John asked.
“Now we switch vehicles. They may have gotten a good look at this one. Turn left at the road.”
“Okay, but do you think you could move that barrel away from my neck? The road is still rough, and I wouldn’t want you to accidentally do anything drastic.”
“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’ll just have to avoid the worst bumps. You, Ms. Maxwell, can set the safety on your weapon and pass it back to me.”
“John?” she transmitted.
“Go ahead, our chance will come later. Just stay ready to move when I give the signal.”
She gave him her silent agreement and passed her shotgun across the seat. Dewatre took it and laid it on the floor.
They turned onto the road, and a half-mile later Dewatre had John pull into another driveway. A green Explorer was parked just off the road.
“Stop here,” Dewatre ordered.
John stopped the Cherokee alongside the Explorer and put the transmission in park.
“Now what?” he asked.
“You remain just where you are. Keep both hands on the top of the steering wheel.”
John eased his hands to the eleven and one o’clock positions and waited.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Dewatre slide across the seat until he was behind Caitlin.
“Now, Ms. Maxwell. I want you to get out and shut the door behind you.”
Caitlin followed his instructions and stood waiting.
Dewatre opened his door and motioned her to back up. Then he stepped out while keeping his gun on her.
“Turn around and back toward me. That’s close enough,” he added when she was an arm’s length away.
“Now you, Blalock. Remember any wrong move, and I will kill your employer. It’s hard to collect from a dead woman.”
John killed the engine and pocketed the key as he got out.
Dewatre took a grip on Caitlin’s coat and pulled her slowly toward the rear of the vehicles. John followed.
“Now open the back of your vehicle,” Dewatre ordered.
John complied silently.
“What’s he going to do with us?” Caitlin transmitted.
“I don’t know. He didn’t kill me when he had the chance before, but he may have more motive now. He probably wants the cyber phone’s technology. Don’t let on to anything we’ve learned, sooner or later we’ll get our chance.”
John opened the rear of the Cherokee and waited.
“Where is it?” Dewatre asked.
“Where’s what?”
“Don’t be smart. You know what I’m after, the disk and the prototype.”
“Oh, that.” John leaned into the back of the Cherokee and slid out the case containing the helmet.
“Open it.”
He flipped the latches and opened it slowly. In the dim glow of the dome light, he could just make out the helmet’s outline.
“All right, now the disk. Where is it?” Dewatre asked.
“Right here,” John replied and took the disk from inside the case. He held it up for Dewatre to see.
The man frowned. “That had better be the right disk. Otherwise, Ms. Maxwell will die.”
“I have no reason to lie about it, Dewatre. It’s not worth my life or Ms. Maxwell’s.”
“That is a good attitude to have. Now set it on the back seat of my car and move away.”
John put the disk inside the case and closed it. He crunched through the snow and opened Dewatre’s rear car door. He set the case on the seat, stepped back, and closed the door.
“Now turn around and walk to the front of your car. If you look back this way, I will have to shoot you.”
John turned slowly. Snow swirled in the dim light. He took one step.
“Caitlin, tell me what he’s doing,” John transmitted.
“He still has the gun at my head. He’s forcing me toward his car. John, I’m afraid.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you. When he tries to force you into the car, he’ll have to release you for a moment. You give me the sign, and I’ll make my move then.”
“All right. Please be careful, I don’t want you hurt,” Caitlin transmitted.<
br />
“Damn straight.”
Dewatre and Caitlin reached the Ford’s front door.
“Open it,” he said.
She did as he ordered, and the dim light doubled. Even with the extra light, she could barely see John at the front of the Jeep.
“On ne meurt, qu’une fois, et c’est pour si longtemps.”
“What was that Frenchie? You forget your English?” John asked.
“John, it’s a quote from Molière. `One dies only once, and it’s for such a long time.’” Caitlin transmitted.
Although they weren’t in physical contact, John could feel her fear.
“He’s shifting the gun. Look out!”
John dove for the front of the Jeep even as the shot cracked the calm. He felt a strong blow against his right shoulder blade. The force of the blow spun him halfway around. For a fraction of a second, he could see Caitlin struggling to prevent Dewatre from shooting. Then a muzzle flash seared his eyes, and a hot lance of pain exploded against his head.
CHAPTER 25
Caitlin watched, frozen in horror as the first bullet hit John. Before he could fire again, she grabbed Dewatre’s arm and pulled it out of line as a second shot broke the stillness.
“John!” She screamed.
There was no answer. She broadcast another shout over the egg, but again there was nothing.
She raised one hand to claw at Dewatre’s eyes, but missed and left four deep cuts in his cheek instead.
He cursed and swung the gun’s barrel at her. Caitlin ducked under it and ran toward where John had fallen at the front of the Jeep.
Just as she rounded the bumper, a hand closed on her coat, and Dewatre jerked her to a halt.
He shoved the gun barrel under her chin until it forced her head back against him. “You bitch, one more stupid move like that and I’ll kill you.”
The snow was matted down where John had fallen, but there was no sign of him. The compressed area went about five feet to the edge of an embankment, and from there the brown dirt was scraped clean of snow.
A red speckling stained the snow around them.
Caitlin felt her knees go weak.
Not John. Not John too.
She tried transmitting to him again, but there was no reply.
The Phoenix Egg Page 27